"I don't!"
—"But I think it's most unkind, when I always tell you everything."
"There's nothing that I can confide in you, silly-billy!" said Lynn, rousing herself and speaking with forced cheerfulness. "Nothing in the world. Now, will that satisfy you? You know practically all my affairs except those which concern other people and which I have promised not to tell."
"Is that true?"
"There is just one thing which I might tell you—but, after all, it's nothing to tell"—
"Oh, what is it?"
"A man—but this is silly for there is really nothing to tell and, anyway, I don't want to discuss it."
"How logical you are," said Mrs. Hadwell, calmly. "But I know all about that, so you needn't bother. He is going to propose to-night, he told me so. And he begged me to make sure that he wasn't deputed to take anyone else home, as you had not answered his note and so he couldn't be sure"—
"He told you! How queer! How very unlike him!"
"I skated with him to-day and we had tea together. And you know how I can always make any man tell me the inmost secret of his heart if I can once get him alone for five minutes. And you're the inmost core of his."